


Jealous

by hedonisticnightmares



Series: #SpnStayAtHome [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24118375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedonisticnightmares/pseuds/hedonisticnightmares
Summary: Destiel Celebrity AU where Cas is a famous vocalist, Dean is part of his road crew, and Sam is along for the ride.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: #SpnStayAtHome [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697713
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Jealous

**I.**

There is something almost magical about concerts. Dean isn’t sure what it is, exactly, but he knows it with his entire being. From the time he tapes down the amp cords before a show, to the encore and fans crowding the sidewalk in hopes of getting a glimpse of the band after, there’s an energy that fills a concert space that is as close as he can ever imagine coming to experiencing real, actual magic.

Dean used to think it didn’t get better than that feeling. He can admit when he’s wrong.

**II.**

Sam can’t, for the life of him, figure out why he had given up a stable job and normal friends to start touring. He thought he’d left bands and tour buses behind with their dad. He’d been a genius bassist, and maybe, if he could have crawled out of the bottle after the divorce, he’d have really been somebody incredible. Sam had left with their mother, but Dean had stayed to take care of their dad. It made sense back then, and Sam has few regrets about any of it now, but he knows that Dean still half blames himself for it all.

Of course, that’s why he’s doing it. For Dean. He’s been worried about him, but if anything is bothering him, Sam can’t tell it. He functions normally while they’re on the road. Sometimes he disappears at odd hours, but that’s not that unusual for road crew. Privacy is hard to come by any other way. And when there’s a show, Dean completely lights up, even when he’s doing grunt work. He’s in his element.

Sam figures it’ll make for an impressive story to tell his normal friends when he gets back home: I spent the summer with my older brother on the road crew for one of the biggest rock vocalists in the world. No sweat.

**III.**

Hot. If Castiel could describe his performances in one word, that would be it. The lights, the crowds, the makeup, the leather and skin-tight, cotton-spandex of his outfits, it’s all just so hot. In the literal sense. He never says this in interviews, but it’s truer than anything he usually does say.

He performs because he doesn’t know how to do anything else. On stage, under the lights, he’s CASTIEL. Just like that, in all capital letters. When he started, they told him it was the best way to build a brand. Now that he’s been on a few tours and has some experience, he wishes he could just sign his name normally.

It’s not that he’s ungrateful. He’s not. He knows how lucky he is to do what he does.

But he likes being… Cas. Off stage, no lights, no makeup, no fans vying for his attention. Dean is really the only person who ever calls him “Cas” but he likes it. He’s liked it for as long as he’s known him.

**IV.**

When he’d been a kid, even in the smokiest, booziest joints he’d gone to with his dad, Dean had relished in the music. He was pretty sure that nothing else mattered as long as he could lose himself in it.

It’s why he’s still doing it so many years later. He can’t help it; he just loves what it feels like to be part of something like that. It’s gotta be what the angel that crafts the stars feels like. Sure, God gets all the credit—for the universe, the heavens and the earth, et cetera—but every night, millions of people look into the sky, and that angel gets to think: _Yeah, I helped make that_.

When he’s with Cas, when they’re able to steal a minute alone together, he feels what it must be like to touch the stars. Like he’s burning, like no matter what, he doesn’t want to let go, even when he has to. Like he’d rather burn alive than go back to what it’s like being a regular guy now that he knows what touching a star can feel like.

It’s not fair, and it’s the only time he feels jealous of regular people. They don’t know what it’s like to hold heaven in their arms. They don’t know what it’s like not to hold it once they have.

He remembers reading this story when he was younger, about a princess from the moon, and the guy she fell in love with. She was really kind and beautiful, and everyone wanted to be with her, to marry her, but she kept telling all the guys to shove it. Except for one. That guy got to talk to her, and they fell in love because they got to know one another a little at a time. But ultimately, she was a princess from the moon, and she had to go back, and they never saw each other again.

He remembers wondering whether that guy ever managed to fall in love again.

One of these days, he thinks Cas will find his way back to the moon.

**V.**

It takes him a few shows to catch on, but Sam eventually realizes that Dean is actually hiding something from him. He’s not surprised. Dean has never been especially forthcoming about anything going on in his own head, but Sam’s here because he cares, so he tries to talk to him about it between shows one day.

He can see how much Dean would rather be talking about _anything_ else as soon as he broaches the subject of feelings. He’s fidgety and he won’t meet his eyes when he talks about stress and the new venue layout, and that’s how Sam knows he’d tell him if he could. Dean is a good liar. If he doesn’t want you to know something, you usually don’t. He has a way of making everyone think he’s fine, even when Sam knows he’s not.

Sometimes, Sam thinks he’s the only one who knows when Dean’s not fine.

He sighs and lets it go.

**VI.**

He should be sleeping. He doesn’t get much sleep between shows these days. They’re almost back-to-back since they’re getting near the end of the tour. He plans to take a little break after this one, so they’ve packed as many shows into this tour as he can physically handle. But he can’t sleep now, won’t until he does this. He can sleep when he’s dead.

Dean is pressed against him, sleepy and rumpled, and he knows they don’t have much time before he’ll have to sneak back to the bus, but he can’t help wanting just to keep him there. They never have enough time. He’d stretch the minutes forever if he knew how, but since he hasn’t figured it out yet, he just does his best to soak as much of Dean up as he possibly can when they get to be together. He feels calmer when he’s with him. Less like he’s not in control of his own life.

He loves him.

Castiel loves Dean so much he doesn’t have words for it. He doesn’t have a song that could say it the right way. He doesn’t think he does a very good job of showing it when they are together, but he tries. He’s never been so in love before in his life, and it absolutely terrifies him. Because they’ve been hiding, and they’ve kept it from everyone, and he’s just so tired of it.

He has this image. CASTIEL. The one the agents and the label and the promoters built for him when he was starting out. They plucked him out of a rundown bar, where he had been playing in college, his hair always a mess, and his face rarely shaved. They talked him up and made him promises, and he never knew better than to do what they told him. He’s a little dark, but not quite edgy, not quite broody. A heartthrob that everyone wants or wants to be. He wears the eyeliner and the leather because they tell him it looks good, when he’d just as soon go back to playing small shows at cozy bars in his old threadbare sweaters and military boots. It’s usually what he wears when he’s allowed to dress himself. And it’s that feeling, the feeling that he really wouldn’t at all mind if it was gone tomorrow, that lets him know that this is the right thing to do.

Dean says he’s fine with the sneaking and secrets. He’s grown up around musicians and he knows the price of fame. He says, “Sure, Cas, it’s not ideal, but it’s not worth your career. It’s fine. We can deal with this.”

Castiel doesn’t think he can anymore.

So when Dean finally wakes up, smiles at him sleepily before he ambles to the bathroom, he reaches under his pillow and sends up a little prayer for himself.

He’s nervous. So nervous he barely gets the words out. His heart is pounding and he thinks he’s never been so nervous in his entire life, not even before his first big show. But he’s a performer, and he knows how to overcome nerves, even when they’re determined to trip him up.

When he finally gets to the point, pops the question, ring box open in his hands and held out for Dean to take, he thinks maybe he should have gotten down on one knee. People always get down on one knee in the movies—Dean likes movies—and yet, here he is, sitting on the edge of a hotel bed, and Dean isn’t saying anything. It’s like he’s been frozen, like Medusa walked right between them and turned him to stone.

“Are you sure?” he whispers finally, right as Castiel is ready to take it all back and try to pass it off as a bad joke.

And there’s so much emotion there—Dean just always _feels_ so much. Castiel can see the tears brimming his eyes, and he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. He’d give every second, every cent of it up if it means he gets to hold Dean Winchester in his arms every night for the rest of his life.

Dean kisses him. He climbs into his lap and kisses and kisses him until they’re both giggling and dizzy, and neither of them wants to go back to doing the things they’re supposed to be doing. But he says yes, and Castiel thinks it’s enough to get him through.

**VII.**

When he finally tells Sam, they’ve just wrapped the last show, and they’re loading the sound equipment onto the bus together. Most everyone else has gone out to celebrate the end of the tour, but Dean said they’d join them once they had everything sorted out on the buses. He knows that Cas knows the real reason he’s hanging back is to talk to Sam, and he leaves with the others, a silent promise that he’ll keep them occupied while Dean does what he needs to between them. They haven’t had much time together since he asked him to marry him, and Dean embarrassed himself by crying, but he still feels giddy about it, and he half believes it’s some elaborate dream.

Dean made Cas promise they would wait until the end of the tour to announce anything. He can’t stand the thought of being the reason for Cas’s ruined career—his parents spent enough time blaming one another for the way their own went. He doesn’t think he could stand it if Cas ever looked at him the way his mom had looked at his dad before the divorce.

But he wants to tell Sam. Telling someone about it might make it feel less like a walking dream. Sam’s been poking around about feelings and asking him what’s been going on with him for weeks, and Dean has had to fight himself tooth and nail not to just tell him everything. He’s never liked lying to him, but he’s never felt so awful about it before either.

He offers him a beer, slightly warm from the faulty mini-fridge on the bus, once they finish, and they sit and enjoy the first bit of silence either of them has had in a while. Usually, there’s always someone else around—you’re almost never alone when you’re on the road—but everyone’s out, and hopefully will be for the next few hours.

Dean’s been wearing his ring around his neck. Cas wanted them to both wear rings, and while Dean would like nothing more than to show off the fact that he’s completely and utterly taken by one of the best people he’s ever met in his life, he’s determined to be patient. He can wait. Cas is convinced his career can handle it, that his fans are more loyal than to overthrow him because of the person he’s chosen to spend his life with, and Dean wants to believe that. He’s just been in the business long enough to know that things don’t always work out that way.

But maybe he’s right. Cas is made of everything Dean’s ever thought of as magic and possibility, and when he sings, sometimes Dean feels like he’s dying because it’s so much all at once. Maybe his fans feel that too, and it isn’t just a byproduct of being hopelessly in love with him.

So he says, “Sammy, there’s something… something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

And he watches as Sam slowly pulls the beer bottle from his lips and shifts forward, his hands on his knees. He’s got this way of turning all his attention on you that must make girls feel like they can tell him anything when he takes them out. It’s no wonder he fit in so easily when he joined their crew for the summer. People can’t help but trust him when he turns that sappy look on them, his eyebrows turned up just a little in the middle. It’s stupid, and even though Dean wants to make fun of him for it, he can’t. Because it actually does work. He can feel himself relaxing a little.

And then he just says it. He’s engaged. Has been for weeks. They haven’t told anyone, but he’s been dating Cas for a couple of years—they’ve just been really _careful_. It’s hard, but when Cas proposed, he was so happy he thought he’d burst, and he’s still beside himself because he can’t imagine life without him.

Sam looks surprised, those brows of his lifted high on his forehead, like what he just heard isn’t quite what he expected Dean to need to tell him.

Dean pulls his ring out from under his shirt and holds it out for Sam to see. It’s silver and engraved on the inside with the date they met because Cas says his life was never the same after that. Even just talking about it, how helpless he looked when he asked him to marry him, gets Dean a little choked up.

Sam smiles and tells him he’s happy for him. Then he gets up and pulls him into a hug. A real one, with his arms wrapped tight around Dean’s shoulders, and whispers his congratulations fiercely in his ear. Sam pats his back and suggests a toast.

Dean nearly cries again.

**VIII.**

The ceremony is pretty small. Just Sam and a few of Dean’s and Castiel’s closest friends. Nothing like you’d expect from a world famous musician, but it seems to suit the two of them.

Actually, the whole thing is kind of rustic. They hold it outside of this old barn, with both Dean and Cas dressed in brownish-grey waistcoats. Cas wears a bow tie, but Dean has a bolo that Sam resolutely doesn’t comment on. It’s his special day, after all. Charlie mentions to him how Castiel owes her for talking Dean out of the “full-cowboy” experience, muttering about Stetsons and spurs as she adjusts her own suspenders and bow tie. Sam is too afraid to ask.

He thinks, as they recite their vows and exchange rings, that he’s never seen his brother like this. Sure, he’s always been quick with a joke, or to brush off the things that bother him, but this is different. He looks happy. Really happy. Dean’s staring at Cas like he hung the moon, just completely starry-eyed and besotted, and although Cas isn’t quite as obvious about it, he looks just as in love.

When they finally kiss, and everyone cheers, Sam just grins and averts his eyes politely.

He’s really happy for them too.

**IX.**

They wait until after the wedding to announce anything to the public.

The initial announcement to relevant parties sent Castiel’s PR team spinning, but he really didn’t care. It wasn’t something he told them so that they could figure out the best way to cover it up or spin it, but because they had helped make his career, and he would potentially be dismantling it all in one fell swoop. It was only fair to give them a little warning.

It’s nothing dramatic, just a quiet social media announcement, a picture of his hand joined with Dean’s and their matching rings, with a caption that reads: _Finally tied the knot._

He chucks his phone after that. He doesn’t care what the rest of the world will think of him, doesn’t feel the need to explain more than he already has, because he’s on his honeymoon, and all he wants right now is to rub sunscreen on his husband’s back.

Except that Dean’s up getting drinks for them, and he’s been gone a bit longer than Castiel would like.

He turns in his beach chair, sunglasses and a floppy hat concealing his identity from the public as he scans the bar for Dean, who does not need the glasses or the hat, because no one really knows or cares about who he is unless they’re Castiel himself or researching Dean’s father. It’s rare, but it happens.

He finds him, nearly pinned against the bar, their drinks in each of his hands, talking to a woman in a bikini. Anyone who doesn’t know Dean might not notice the way his eyes keep cutting away from her, or that awkward laugh he does when she says something that Castiel is too far away to hear. They might even mistake it for shy flirting. The bikini-clad blonde certainly seems to.

Castiel would never call himself the jealous sort. He’s not. He doesn’t have room to be, given his chosen career. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t derive a certain amount of satisfaction from approaching the bar, plucking his drink from Dean’s hand, and greeting him with a smooth, “Hello, husband.” He kisses his cheek and takes a sip from his drink, “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

Dean laughs, and Castiel imagines that this time it sounds less hollow than the one he had witnessed from afar probably had.

Dean’s onto him, but he just leans into it, slides his arm around Castiel’s waist, “I was just telling Rhonda- Ronnie, here,” he lifts his eyebrows at her to make sure he got her name right, “that we’re on our honeymoon.”

Castiel hums his approval and Ronnie gives them a stiff smile before offering congratulations to them and making an excuse to leave.

“You know how much I love you?” Dean says, and he leans in to kiss Castiel properly.

“Enough to let me protect you from harmful UV radiation?” Castiel eyes him pointedly from behind his shades when Dean pulls away again.

Dean doesn’t think he needs sunblock, and if Cas is honest, he kind of likes the way his freckles stand out when he neglects to wear it, but if he’s going to have a husband, he intends to keep him as long as possible. It would be ridiculous to overcome his own fame just to lose him to skin cancer.

Dean rolls his eyes in that way that means he’s about to give in and takes a sip from Castiel’s straw before he tugs him back toward their chairs, “Fine, but make it quick. I’ve got an image to uphold.” He winks at Cas from over his shoulder, and they grin stupidly at each other for a moment.

When Dean finally seats himself between Castiel’s legs in surrender, Cas kisses each of his shoulders and lets himself feel secure in the fact that he’s on a beach with his husband, and when they go back to their room in a little bit, they’ll get to stay together for the entire night, and every night after.

**Author's Note:**

> We're winding down with these prompts! I think there are two more official ones, and then two bonus ones (I haven't decided whether or not I'll do those yet), so this series is nearly finished! This week, I experimented a little bit with the style—I really never write this way (first person; segments; differing POVs) and I wanted to see if I could manage it! Additionally, all the writing, plus the work I've been doing from home, and my recreational gaming has finally gotten to my wrist, I'm afraid 😰 I was in some pain with it this week, so it wasn't really possible to write as much as I have for the last few prompts, and I needed to do something more manageable so I could rest it properly. Fortunately, it's feeling a lot better now. I still want to take it kind of easy though, so the next one might still be a little shorter than usual.
> 
> As usual, I hope you enjoyed this, and thank you for reading ❤


End file.
